


Acquisitions

by DiamondsxStags



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Coming of Age, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, IM LOVE LUCA OK, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Spoilers for Season Four, but not many since it diverges from the canon, reader is a woc, the idea came from kittiofdoom from tumblr, well to me it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-03-01 04:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13286859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondsxStags/pseuds/DiamondsxStags
Summary: Every person has their purpose, and yours has just come up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

Family meetings always made you nervous. There was something about being under Tommy’s impassive blue eyes that made you uneasy and all the more worried that you would mess something up. And with the Italians and the vendetta, this only made your anxieties worse.

 

Tommy exhaled cigarette smoke before looking at you all. “I’ve spoken to Luca Changretta.” He said slowly. “And we’ve reached an agreement.”

 

“What kind of agreement?” Arthur asked gruffly. “And why didn’t I know about this before now?”

 

“It’s a peace agreement.” Tommy said, not looking at his brother. “As much as it pains me to say, the Italians are leagues ahead of us, and if this doesn’t end here, things will only get worse for us. So we made a deal.”

 

You glanced over at Ada and clutched her hand under the table, squeezing it tight.

 

“He’s going to marry a Shelby.”

 

A stunned silence followed, and slowly, all eyes fell on Ada, including your own.

 

The idea of handing Ada over to the Italians upset you and you wanted to protest, but you weren’t brave enough. Already you could feel your heart sinking and missing Ada, even as she continued to sit beside you and hold your hand. Out of your cousins, she was your favourite when you were growing up. The boys, save for Finn, were all older than you and Ada tended to be more than enough for them to deal with, girl wise. Being an only child, you had clung onto your cousins as makeshift siblings, but Ada was the only one who returned the feelings. Tears began to prick at your eyes. First John now Ada, both taken by the mafia, albeit in different ways. You hoped you would be able to write to her, maybe even visit if the Changrettas took a big enough liking to Ada, and why shouldn’t they? She was fierce and brave and smart, everything one would want in a daughter-in-law.

 

“Name.”

 

You looked up at Tommy so quickly you were surprised your neck didn’t break. “Y-Yeah?” You said nervously.

 

“Pack your things.” He said. “Your train leaves tonight.”

 

There was another silence, as everyone processed what Tommy had just said.

 

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Ada spat, glaring at her brother. “You can’t send her off to America!”

 

“I can and I have.” Tommy replied firmly. “It’s the agreement Luca Changretta and I came to, and it’s the agreement we’re going to follow.”

 

“Like Hell we are.” Polly joined in with a sneer. “You’ve done some shit Tommy but this has to be the worst! You don’t sell off family!”

 

“Pol.” Despite how softly you spoke, your voice was able to carry in the small room, making everyone turn to you. “It’s ok.” You looked up Tommy. “I understand.”

 

And you did, really. In a family like yours, sacrifices and decisions are made that can be hard on everyone else. But while a new feeling of apprehension had settled over you, a part of you also felt elated.

 

For years you had tried to prove yourself to the brothers, wanting them to see that you could be just as useful as any other Blinder and be just as worthy of the cap. When Tommy became the head of the family you tried especially hard to impress him, to get him to see you as more than just an annoying younger cousin. You had done whatever he asked, yet somehow it never proved to be enough. He put you to the side, choosing someone else to do this or that job, only going to you as an afterthought. To know that Tommy trusted you with something as big as this made your heart swell, along with a new determination to make Tommy proud.

 

He nodded, taking another drag of his cigarette. “Good.”

 

“No, not good!” Ada was on her feet, no longer holding your hand. “Name isn’t a stallion you can put out to stud Tommy! And you can’t just do this without asking her!”

 

“Ada.” Tommy said warningly. “Drop it.”

 

“Fuck off Tommy!” She snapped in return. “Go back to Changretta and tell him the deal’s off! Trains be damned!”

 

Without a word, you clutched Ada’s sleeve. She looked down at you, eyes still burning with righteous fury, but you could see fear as well.

 

“I’ve already said I’ll do it.” You said, your voice firm for the very first time ever. “It’s either this or more bloodshed Ada. I know which one I prefer.”

 

Although she was clearly still angry, Ada didn’t say anything else, just glared at the table.

 

“As I was saying.” Tommy said, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Name you need to pack whatever you can and be ready to leave so you can catch your train. Ada and Polly can help.”

 

“Yes Tommy.” Before they had the chance to say anything else, you left the living room, hoping that Ada and Polly would do same and join you on the street.

 

The bracing wind sent you hair flying in all directions, but you barely noticed. You were still in something of a daze, trying to understand what had made Tommy choose you to be Luca Changretta’s wife. Maybe, after all this time, he was finally beginning to see your potential, to trust you with bigger tasks, and what was bigger than this? He had chosen you to save the family, an honour that held no equal in your eyes.

 

“I can’t fucking believe that boy sometimes.”

 

You turned and saw that Polly and Ada had finally joined you outside, both of them still clearly furious.

 

“And to do this without consulting anyone!” Polly continued, doing up her coat. “He has a lot of fucking nerve.”

 

“Leave it Pol.”

 

Polly looked like she wanted to say more, but something in your face made her hold back. Instead she got into her car, you and Ada following behind. “Tommy is going to get a right bollocking from me tonight.”

 

You hold Ada’s hand again, and found it clammier than before.

 

* * *

 

 

Ever since the death of your parents you have been living under Polly’s roof, which was something you never forgot to be thankful for. You had told Polly that you were more than happy to go off on your own, but she would never hear of it so eventually you dropped it. But now she no longer had a say in the matter.

 

She and Ada were oddly silent as you packed everything you felt you would need, which quickly ended up being everything you owned. When it became clear the other two women weren’t going to say anything, you decided to do the talking instead, more to fill the silence than anything else.

 

“Do you think it would be easy to find a masjid in New York?” You asked, delicately placing your copy of the Qur'an among the other books you had put in one of your suitcases. One of Small Heath’s problems was it’s lack of a masjid, which your had mum lamented almost everyday. When she was growing up it was more than just a place of worship, it was the center of the community. A sadness always overcame your mum whenever she got to talking about the masjid she went to while she was still in Istanbul, so you learned to not ask. “It’s supposed to be very big, how many do you think there will be?”

 

You glanced over at Ada and Polly, but they remained tight lipped and grim faced, folding your various clothes and fitting them into other cases.

 

“Coffee!” It had come to you so suddenly it made you jump, and you hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen to find the tin that held the special Turkish coffee you got from London, a habit you picked up from your mother who refused to drink coffee, or tea for that matter, that wasn’t made in her homeland.

 

As you made your way back up, Ada and Polly at your heels, you stopped in front of the doorway to the living room, looking into it.

 

“I don’t suppose I can take mum’s loom can I?” You gazed sadly at the wooden frame your mum had used to make carpets while she was still alive. She had taught you to do the same when you were eight, by which time she had been teaching you the art of market haggling for three years. They were both skills your mum had excelled it. “Maybe I can have it sent for in New York.”

 

“How are you alright with this?”

 

Ada’s voice had been so small you almost thought you had imagined it. But when you turned to look at her, you saw her eyes welling up and her mouth trembling. “How can you be ok with Tommy selling you off like cattle?”

 

Usually, Shelbys didn’t know what to do with people feeling strong emotions, but you were an exception to that rule (as you were with many other Shelby family rules), and you embraced Ada without hesitation. “I’m not a hundred percent alright with this.” You admitted. “Ada, I’m _terrified_ . But with what happened to John and Michael, and Arthur nearly being killed _in his own factory_ ...Ada I just want this to _end_.”

 

It was strange to see Ada, the girl you had long seen as an older sister and admired for her strength and tenacity, look so utterly shattered. You hadn’t seen her like this since Freddie died, and you felt bad for being responsible for Ada being in this state.

 

“But what if we never see you again?” Ada asked with a slight sniffle, clutching your arms like her life (or yours) depended on it.

 

“That won’t happen.” Polly said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.” And she wrapped her arms around the two of you as she too started to cry.

 

* * *

 

 

The wait for Luca Changretta and his men at the train station felt like the longest wait in your life, longer even than during the war and you spent every day wondering when Arthur and Tommy and John would come home.

 

Ada was still holding your hand while Karl clutched her other hand. You weren’t sure what Ada had told him, or even if he understood what was happening. You would miss him too, him and Charlie and Billy. Like Finn before them you had helped care for them, becoming another open pair of arms they could turn to.

 

It suddenly occurred to you that Luca Changretta would no doubt expect you to give him children. The thought made you blush and you hoped he wouldn’t jump right into that straight away. You hadn’t even had sex yet, and only kissed a boy once.

 

‘ _If he wants children you’ll give him children._ ’ You told yourself firmly. ‘ _This is for the family. Think of the family_.’

 

As the steam from the latest train to leave the station cleared away, a tall man dressed in black emerged, flanked by twelve other men. With each step the man came closer to you and when Tommy stepped forward to greet him, you knew that this was your new husband.

 

“Good to see that you’re keeping up your end of the bargain.” Tommy said.

 

“Of course.” Luca Changretta grinned, a toothpick situated in his mouth. “I’m a man of my word Mr Shelby.” He turned to you and Ada, dark eyes landing on you. “Name I presume?”

 

You felt your face flush. As men go, he certainly wasn’t bad looking. Rather the opposite in fact. “Yes Mr Changretta.” You said, offering the hand that had been holding Ada’s.

 

Luca Changretta raised a brow, and for a split second you genuinely feared that you weren’t up to his expectations and that everything would fall apart.

 

Instead, he took your hand and removed the toothpick from his mouth before kissing your knuckles. The act was surprising not just in it’s unexpectedness, but it’s tenderness too.

 

“You’re my wife now.” He said gently, his mouth mere centimeters away from your hand. “Call me Luca.”

 

“I...I…” Looking into Luca’s eyes, you found yourself unable to form words.

 

“Alright that’s enough.”

 

Tommy’s impatience broke whatever spell Luca had inadvertently cast on you and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t grateful. You went to pick up your suitcases, but three of Luca’s men beat you to it. Unused to this kind of treatment, you just stared at them dumbly, avoiding looking at Luca.

 

“We’ll send word once we’ve arrived in New York.” You heard him say.

 

“Good.” Was Tommy’s reply. “Then we can put this whole business behind us.”

 

There was a pause, and you were tempted to turn around to see Luca’s reaction, but your embarrassment prevented you from doing so.

 

A train attendant came out and started yelling for people with tickets to board the overnight train to London.

 

“Looks like we should go.” Out of nowhere, Luca hooked his arm through yours, more or less making you look up at him. He smiled down at you and you felt your face heat up again.

 

Before either of you could step foot on the train, Polly grabbed Luca’s arm. “Be good to her.” She said sternly.

 

To your surprise, Luca’s face became softer, almost gentle. “I will, don’t worry.”

 

With one last look at the family, and Small Heath and everything else you had ever known, you stepped onto the train.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time

The compartment you would be sharing with Luca was in the first class part of the train, a place you had never thought you would ever set foot in. You thanked the men who carried your suitcases and they replied with curt nods. There was a short exchange between Luca and two of his men, all of which was in Italian, so you were left staring in between the two parties and trying not to look as nervous as you felt.

 

When the men finally left they closed the door, leaving you and Luca alone for the first time.

 

“So, your folks didn’t come.”

 

You looked up Luca, brow furrowed in confusion. “My...folks?”

 

“Parents.” He clarified. “Although I can’t say I blame them, I wouldn’t want to meet me either if I was in their shoes.”

 

“Oh.” You hesitated, trying to find the best way to break it to Luca. “My-my parents are dead.”

 

The easy smile that had been on Luca’s face fell, and he suddenly took on an appearance that wasn’t too dissimilar to that of a sad puppy. “Thomas didn’t mention that.” He said. “What happened?”

 

“There was a cholera outbreak in Small Heath fifteen years ago.” It had been a terrible time, as each day meant more lives lost, and it felt like your home had been haunted by the specters of Fear and Death. Days before your parents passed your mum sent you to stay with Polly. She hadn’t told you why and you didn’t think to ask, as you always enjoyed time with your aunt. Years later you would learn that your parents knew of their impending deaths, and they didn’t want to risk passing the disease onto you, or have you see them die. “The doctor said they died in their sleep. They didn’t suffer.”

 

Despite your effort to make the whole thing seem better than it had been at the time, Luca still seemed pensive and even sympathetic. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

Even though this could’ve been an act, you felt endeared towards Luca for this display. “It’s alright.” You awkwardly placed a hand on Luca’s, smiling in a manner that you hoped was comforting.

 

There was silence between the two of you as Luca looked first at your hand, then at you. Fearing that you had done something wrong, you quickly pulled your hand away. Clearing your throat you looked over at the two bunk beds in the wall. “So shall I take the bottom or the top?”

 

If Luca was at all surprised at your sudden withdrawal and change of subject, he didn’t show it. “Well normally I like to be on top.” He looked down at you and grinned, making your face heat up. “But I’ll take the bottom for tonight.”

 

Before you could say anything, Luca took off his coat, then his suit jacket before moving to unbutton his shirt.

 

Face going bright red you immediately turned around, looking down at your feet for extra measure.

 

“Don’t tell me you’re already finding me unattractive?” The hint of playfulness in Luca’s tone made you go redder. “Usually it takes a couple years for that to happen.”

 

“I just wanted to give you some privacy.” You said quickly, feeling his eyes on you and goosebumps rise all over your skin.

 

A heavy silence hung between you two, and again you were left worrying that you had done something wrong.

 

“Have you...have you ever seen a man naked before?”

 

You said nothing, afraid of what would come out of your mouth and how it would sound.

 

The cold hand of fear had taken hold of you, clutching at your windpipes and digging it’s talons into your gut. It suddenly occurred to you that you had no idea what Tommy had told Luca about you. If he left out the death of your parents, what else did he omit? What did he add? Was Luca under the impression that you were a different kind of woman from the one you truly were? Worst of all, was he beginning to regret this agreement? It wasn’t too late for him to go back on his word, when the train pulled into London he could have his men dispose of you and go back to Small Heath. Except things would be worse, with Luca no doubt wanting retribution for being handed something faulty, when he thought it was in perfect condition. You could die far from home, your body tossed in the Thames or in some alley, probably never to be seen again.

 

Luca sighed heavily and for a second, you braced yourself. Although for what, you weren’t entirely sure.

 

You didn’t turn back around until you heard the compartment door close.

 

Hours later, when Luca still hadn’t returned, you cautiously changed into your night clothes. As you performed Maghrib, you expected Luca to walk back in, distracting you to the point where you had to repeat your prayers more than twice. Even with all the stumbles, by the end of it, he had not returned. You were still alone after Isha’a.

 

Lying in the top bunk, you stared at the ceiling of the train, listening to the occasional footsteps, waiting for Luca to return. You closed your eyes.

 

‘ _ Allah bana yardım etsin _ .’

 

* * *

 

When you woke, it was to a train compartment that had you as it’s only occupant. With each passing second, you felt yourself grow heavier, where you could barely properly perform your prayers. Terror had fully taken hold of you, and the only thing that was preventing you from crying was the fear of Luca walking in and becoming even more infuriated than he surely already was. After your prayers, you curled up on the bottom bunk, clutching the wedding photo of your mum and dad that you had brought with you, reciting every prayer for mercy and forgiveness that you knew.

 

If today was your day to die, you would die with Allah on your tongue.

 

At the sudden knock on the door, your words of worship turned to dust, and your mouth felt as if it was full of ash. Slowly, still clasping the photo, you got off the bunk, and opened the door.

 

It wasn’t Luca.

 

“We’re going to arrive in London soon.” Said the Italian, who you recognized as one of the men Luca had spoken to yesterday. “Be ready to leave. Some men will be here to help you with your things.” He left before you could respond.

 

Your heart was racing so badly you feared it would jump right out of your chest. What was Luca planning? Perhaps he intended to lull you into a false sense of security, have you think you were safe before killing you at the last possible second. A new prayer was added to your list: one asking for a swift death, if mercy was out of reach.

 

As promised, when the train pulled into the station, three men came in to take your bags, leaving you to trail after them. When you stepped out onto the platform you saw Luca talking to the man from earlier, gnawing on a toothpick. He seemed to tower over everyone else, both physically and in presence. You slipped the photo of your parents into your coat pocket, but kept a firm grip on it.

 

Luca looked over at you, but it was only for a second before he spoke in Italian to your three nameless helpers. He didn’t appear to be angry, but then Tommy didn’t always look angry when he was. That was when you knew he was at his most dangerous and furious.

 

When he approached you the chill of fear came over you again, and you found yourself unable to move.

 

“Come on, don’t want to miss our ship.” To your surprise, Luca offered his arm.

 

After a slight hesitation, you tentatively held onto his arm, maintaining enough distance to run when the time came. Luca lead you to a slick black car and your bags were placed in the backseat while you and Luca sat in the front. His men all went into cars of their own and when Luca drove everyone else followed.

 

The silence between the two of you only lasted a short while longer before you broke it. “I’m sorry.”

 

Luca glanced down at you before looking back onto the road. “For what?”

 

“I-I’m probably not what you expected.” You said quietly. “I don’t know what Tommy told you or what you were expecting, but I’m sure it wasn’t...well me.” You swallowed thickly as you tightened your grip over the photo of your parents, feeling it fold in your fingers. “But if you’re going to kill me, just-please make it quick.”

 

There was a pause that felt unbearably long but you knew, logically, couldn’t have been any longer than a minute.

 

“You think I’m going to kill you?” Luca sounded equal parts incredulous and confused. “What the hell gave you that idea?”

 

Surprised at his reaction, you furrowed your brow. “Well, I mean, like I said, I’m probably not what you expected so…”

 

“So you thought I would kill you.” Luca looked down at you with the same sad puppy look from yesterday. “What kind of man do you think I am?” Before you could answer he shook his head and looked back out onto the road. “Don’t answer that.”

 

“Look, I know I don’t cut the friendliest of figures, but I wasn’t going to kill you. Thomas might’ve left a few things out, but that’s hardly worth killing my wife over.” He moved one hand from the steering wheel to your arm, giving it a squeeze. “I’m a man of my word.” He said seriously. “And I gave my word to marry you and make peace between our families, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

 

The silence that came over you two was suffocating, but not in the same way as before. You felt like a silly little girl who had blown things out of proportion and you wanted the bottom of the car to open up so you could fall into the ground and disappear. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “I just...I was scared.”

 

Luca gave you a glance. “I don’t blame you.” He muttered.

 

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the drive.

 

* * *

 

You had never been on a ship before, never even seen one, so you truly had no expectations. But the _Queen_ _Victoria_ still managed to take your breath away, with its immense size and elegant appearance. You didn’t even know that ships could look elegant, but there she was.

 

Not wanting to get lost in the crowd, you clung onto Luca’s arm and followed him like a second shadow, watching other people board the ship or load cargo onto it. When it came time for you two to show your tickets to the attendant, he raised a brow.

 

“What business do you two have in New York?” He asked.

 

Luca smiled in a friendly manner that seemed surprisingly genuine. “We’re getting married.” He looked down at you with a gaze that was so adoring it made you blush.

 

The attendant raised a brow, no doubt wondering how two people with such an obvious age gap managed to get engaged to each other, but made no comment. He merely gave the tickets back and waved you both on, giving his attention to the next party in line.

 

Once again you were situated in first class, and the cabin you shared with Luca was immense. In fact to call it a ‘cabin’ would be doing it a great injustice, seeing as how it was easily bigger than either of the homes you grew up in. Looking at it, you suspected that even if you compared the total square footage of both houses, it still wouldn’t be as big as this almighty ‘cabin’.

 

However, there was one problem. There was only one bed. You probably should’ve expected this, but somehow you hadn’t and seeing it now, you felt yourself go red (again), and try to wrap your head around the fact that for the first time ever, you were going to be sharing a bed with a man.

 

“I can sleep on the sofa out in the main room if you like.” Luca suggested, as if sensing your discomfort. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

 

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that!” You replied hastily. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.” As you looked back at the bed, a thought suddenly occurred to you. “Luca, where did you sleep last night?”

 

“Well luckily for me, some poor sap missed the train so there was an extra first class compartment free.” He looked down at you, face full of tender concern. “You’re sure you’re alright with sharing the bed?”

 

“Yes.” You said, voice surprisingly soft. You gazed up at Luca, taking in his presence. For a man who was so effortlessly intimidating, not to mention incredibly dangerous, he had treated you with surprising kindness. “I mean, if I’m going to be your wife I should get used to it, right?” You smiled in a way that you hoped came off as confident and cheerful, although you weren’t entirely sure.

 

“Right.” Luca returned a smile that sent waves of comfort crashing over you somehow. “I’m going to talk to my men, you make yourself at home tesoro.” He leaned in, and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you.

 

But instead, he brought a hand to your face and gently caressed it, his mouth a respectable distance away. His eyes slowly roamed over you before he turned on his heel, confidently striding to wherever it was his men were sleeping.

 

Heart beating faster than one of Tommy’s horses at a race, you sat down on the bed, so dizzy and overwhelmed you could barely feel how soft it was.

 

It was beginning to look like you stood a very real chance of falling for your soon to be husband, and you feared everything that might bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> Allah bana yardım etsin: God help me (Turkish) (Google translate)
> 
> Tesoro: Treasure/Sweetheart (Italian) (Google translate)
> 
> Notes:
> 
> As far as I’m aware there was no cholera outbreak in the the real Small Heath during that time, or even in Birmingham. If there was then that is just a huge coincidence.
> 
> Maghrib and Isha’a are two of the five daily prayers every Muslim must perform unless they meet the criteria to miss it.
> 
> The Queen Victoria is a made up ship based off the Titanic, again any similarities to any actual real ships is a total coincidence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly highly highly recommend installing the InteractiveFics extension from the Chrome store if you can. To add your name and last name simply install the extension, then click ‘Need to replace something other than Y/N?’ and in the value bar put Name and put your name in the Replace With bar, then click change! And be sure to tick Store this replacement so that you don’t have to do it every time.

As the ship left the harbour, you looked out from the window and saw London harbour slowly shrink before it became one with the horizon. You had never seen anything like it, and it made you realize just how small the world was, especially the one you had inhabited for so long. It was like saying goodbye to a part of yourself.

By mid-morning you had washed and gotten changed into a dress that Ada had brought back from America. It was a deep emerald green, with a V shaped neckline, long fitted sleeves, and fell to just above your knees. She had told you to save it for a special occasion, and this had seemed special enough. You paired it with transparent nylons and black T-bar shoes, and took your tin of coffee, hoping to find the kitchen.

“E-Excuse me!” You called out to a passing young man in a uniform.

“Yes miss?” He replied. “Do you need help?”

“Can you tell me where the kitchen is?” At the young man’s surprised expression, you held up your tin, fingers nervously drumming along it. “I-I would like to make some coffee.”

* * *

 

“We can do that for you miss.”

Your grip became tighter. “I would rather do it myself. I like my coffee a particular way.”

If the young man was even more surprised, he hid it well and invited you to follow him below deck.

Other crew members gave you odd looks, but never said anything. Although you knew why they were looking at you, it still made you anxious, and your grip on the tin became so tight your knuckles turned white.

The kitchen itself was large and loud, and you had to be very careful so as to not collide with anyone and cause any kind of trouble and mess. The young man, whom you learned was called Jacob, stayed with you and watched as you made your pot of coffee.

“What kind of coffee is that?” He asked, brow furrowed as he tried to read the Turkish writing on the label.

“Turkish.” You replied, adding a good helping to a kettle. “It’s the only kind I drink.”

“What, English not good enough?” He asked teasingly with a raised brow.

You laughed, feeling at ease despite the short amount of time the two of you had known each other. “My mother was from Istanbul.” You explained. “Apparently, she took one sip of English coffee and spat it right back out, and said that she would never have English coffee under her roof, so I’ve only ever had Turkish coffee.”

“Alright what about tea?” Jacob asked, leaning against the steel countertop as he watched your movements. “If we English know anything it’s tea.”

You shook your head as you waited for the water to boil. “She hated that too I’m afraid.” You said with a small laugh. “According to her, the only thing England could make well was terrible weather.”

Jacob raised a brow but nodded. “Well she isn’t wrong there.” He conceded.

“What’s it like working on a ship like this?” You asked suddenly. “I imagine it must be very exciting.”

Jacob looked at you with surprise. “Oh, well, not really.” He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh no I do!” You insisted, smiling brightly. “I’ve never been on a ship before, I would love to know what it’s like for you!”

He still seemed hesitant, but he went on to tell you his duties. He was the assistant to the chief steward’s right hand, which meant that he dealt with the kitchen staff and helped balance the books. It really was fascinating to learn how much work goes into the upkeep of the ship, including things you never thought of that would need doing, like keeping track of the upkeep of the engines.

“I can’t imagine having to do all of that.” You admitted, genuinely astonished. “I can barely keep myself together, I would fail miserably with a ship.”

“Well, I mean, I wasn’t that great at first.” Jacob mumbled, eyes downcast and face turning slightly pink.

“Which makes this even more impressive.” With the pot finally boiled, you were able to make two steaming cups of coffee. The smell calmed you, and brought you back to your childhood, when your mum first taught you how to make coffee. “And based on what I’m seeing, you’re doing a wonderful job.” You set the coffee cups on saucers, and held them carefully.

“Wait!” Jacob opened up a side cupboard and brought out a tray, holding it out. “Put them on here.”

You raised your brows, but did as you were told and smiled. “Thank you, this is very kind.”

Jacob only flushed a deep scarlet, right up to the tips of his ears, and lead you out of the kitchen while holding the tray. You followed him up into the dining room, which was more like a dining great hall, where the other passengers were enjoying their lunch. As you were looking for a free table, you saw Luca sitting in a booth, with the two men you had grown to recognize. You lead Jacob to the booth, and smiled shyly when Luca noticed you.

He held up a hand to silence the two men with him, and watched you and Jacob with a raised brow. “What’s this?” He asked as Jacob set the tray down.

“I made some coffee. Turkish.” In that moment, it suddenly occurred to you that Luca may not like Turkish coffee. He may not like coffee at all.

His face was completely unreadable, which did nothing to help your anxieties. He looked up at Jacob, who had gone from bright red to completely colourless. “That’s very kind.” There was a hint of surprise in his voice, and you could only hope it was the good kind. After exchanging a few Italian words with the men and dismissing them with a wave of the hand, he turned back to Jacob. “Thank you for helping my wife.”

Clearly knowing a dismissal when he saw one, Jacob nodded and scurried away.

Still feeling a little nervous, you slipped into the booth, sitting opposite Luca as you took a cup for yourself.

“Did you really make this yourself?”

You looked up at Luca, surprised at his question. “Yes, I always make my own coffee. My mum taught me how to make it.” You swallowed nervously, carefully considering your next words. “And she taught me how to read the coffee grounds.”

Luca looked up at you and rather than appearing skeptical or amused or even mocking, he seemed...interested. Genuinely interested. “Is that a common thing to do in Turkey?”

“It’s very common.” You ran the tip of a finger around the rim of your teacup, waiting for it to cool enough for you to drink. “Most people get their coffee grounds read, usually by professionals, but friends and relatives will do it for each other too. It’s a skill that’s been passed down my family for generations, and it helped keep my mum connected to Turkey.”

Luca nodded, running his fingers along his jaw. The rings decorating his fingers gleamed in the bright lights reflecting off the chandeliers. It completely mesmerized you, and your eyes ran down from his nails to his neck, and the black cross that had been tattooed there. You went back to the hand and down to the wrist, with the black hand tattoo, to the strong forearms that were on full display thanks to the rolled up sleeves. His other hand was gently holding his coffee cup, two of his fingers delicately moving up and down the cup, and to the fine lines of a third tattoo that you couldn’t really make out.

“Would you read mine?”

Your eyes snapped back to Luca’s, as you tried to discern the sincerity behind his request. You had learned how to tell a genuine request for a reading from a sarcastic one, and it seemed that Luca really did want a reading. “Ok.” You said tentatively. “Um, I just need you to finish your coffee in five drinks while focussing on a question you want answered.”

“Why five?” Luca asked as he brought the cup to his lips.

You shrugged as you did the same. “It’s just what my mum taught me. Some readers say you should finish it in three or one.”

“Guess I should be grateful then.” Luca smiled as he took his first gulp of the coffee. “That’s good.” He said, sounding a little surprised. “Very rich.”

“My mum taught me well.”

“Clearly.”

The two of you sat in silence as you both finished your coffees, your eyes always flitting up to Luca as you tried to discern what it was he wanted answered.

After the fifth drink he was finished and set the cup on his saucer. “Ok, now what.”

“Put the cup face down on the saucer.” You did it yourself, gently placing the rim the center of the saucer, to show what you meant. “Then you need to swirl it three times clockwise, to make the sediments move and easier to read.” Again you did the action yourself and watched Luca do the same. It felt odd to do a reading in a place so fancy, and with someone you didn’t know especially well. But knowing that Luca was willing to go through it calmed you, and gave you hope for this marriage. “Was your question about money or a relationship?”

Luca raised a brow. “Why do you want to know?”

You felt your face flush and remembered how odd of an question that must be. “Well, it’s just that, um, if it’s about money you need a coin on top of the mug. If it’s about a relationship you should put a ring instead.”

After a pause, Luca slid one of his gold rings off and put on the cup, all while maintaining firm eye contact with you. It didn’t help the flush on your face.

“And now we wait.” You hid your hands on your lap, to better hide your fidgeting. “My mum always said that five minutes is long enough.”

“Tell me about your mother.” Luca templed his fingers and leaned back, regarding you with what your mum called The Buyer’s Eye. “How did she end up in Birmingham?”

“My dad was in the merchant navy.” You said. “His captain was doing business in Istanbul with my mum’s family and that’s how they met. They were merchants as well you see, have been since before the Ottoman Empire.” You smiled a little. “My mum always said that the Silk Road was etched into our bones.”

While you had only ever seen the legendary trade route on maps, the stories your mum told you made you feel as if you had walked it yourself, feeling the sand seep between your tones and the heat of the sun beat down on your back.

“According to my dad it was love at first sight. They were stationed in Istanbul for months and the whole time he courted my mum.” The stories your dad told of that time tended to get exaggerated at his discretion, each romantic gesture getting grander and grander, but that was part of the fun. “And then, literally the day before they’re due to leave, my mum agrees to go back to England with my dad. It took a while to convince his captain to go along with it, but they made a deal and after coming back my dad left the merchant navy. Said he didn’t want to spend a single day away from my mum.”

Luca smiled, his eyes twinkling. “That’s very romantic. But I can’t imagine leaving was easy on your mother.”

“No. It wasn’t.” You could feel the corners of your lips drooping, almost forming a frown, before you stepped in. “For one, most of the people in Small Heath have never left it, or Birmingham. And for another, there were no Muslims.”

Luca’s brow furrowed. “What’s a Muslim?”

“A follower of Islam, my mum’s religion. It’s one of the biggest in Turkey, and my mum grew up going to the masjid and reading the Qu’ran and speaking Arabic.” Your eyes lowered, looking at your overturned teacup. “My mum cried during her first Ramadan away from her family. She had never celebrated it without them. My dad converted and celebrated all the holidays with her, but it took her awhile to get used to doing it without family.”

It always broke your heart to hear how deeply your mum suffered from homesickness and heart ache. Istanbul was more than her home, it was part of who she was. For twenty years she walked it’s streets, reveling in it’s sounds and smells and tastes. And then she was put in a drab, dark, and grim little part of Birmingham, with nothing to remind her of home. In her journals, you read that she had spent the whole first month crying herself to sleep, afraid that she would forget how beautiful Istanbul was.

“That’s the immigrant life.” Luca said somberly. “My parents were lucky, they came with their families and were able to fit into the community in New York. But even Italians who arrive on their own are able to get help. Sounds like your mother was on her own.”

You nodded, surprised at the show of empathy. “And everyone looked down on her because she was foreign. Some of them even insulted her to her face because they thought she couldn’t speak English.” Almost unconsciously, your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms. “My mum could speak eight languages, including English. And she was a mathematician, went to college and everything. She owned over one hundred books but because she was from Turkey, everyone thought she was stupid.”

Throughout your childhood, you had seen your mum patronized by those around you, and you had never fully understood why. It wasn’t until you were older and began to read your mum’s journals that you started to see just how outcasted she had felt, even when she died. She was Shelby in name only, and there were many who were all too happy to let her know what they thought of a foreigner.

“Your mother sounds like quite the woman.”

You looked up at Luca. His expression was soft and again you were struck by how sympathetic he was being. “I adored her.” You said gently.

“Clearly.” Luca’s tone had a hint of playfulness, but his smile was friendly. “So, eight whole languages huh? Was one of them Italian?”

A small laugh escaped you and your mouth formed a smile. “Unfortunately not. She could speak Turkish, Arabic, Farsi, Greek, Bulgarian, Hindi, and Sanskrit as well as English, but not Italian. She saw no need for it as her family rarely did business with Italians.”

“I haven’t even heard of most of those languages.” Luca confessed with a raised brow. “So your mother learned all of those for business?”

“Partly. Her father was the head of the family and she was being groomed to take over so it would be expected for her to be able to do negotiations so obviously having command of a few languages would be beneficial.”

“Sounds like she had command of more than a few.”

You laughed again. “Well, my mum got bored easily and she found learning a good way to kill boredom.”

Luca shook his head in amazement. “Whenever I got bored as a kid I just picked on my brothers.” He joked.

“Oh my mother was  _far_  too mature for that those kinds of antics.” You teased. “She used to be called The Little Sultana.”

“Why was your mother called a fruit?”

This time a bigger laugh burst forth from you, so loud and full it made heads turn towards you. Flushing you put a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise and did your best to calm down. “They weren’t talking about the fruit.” You said, still somewhat breathless from laughing. “Sultana is the female version of sultan, which is given to rulers, like the Sultan of the Ottoman Empire.”

“So like a king?”

“Kind of.” You shrugged. “Technically it means strength or authority or rulership in Arabic, but that’s a pretty close translation.” You looked down at Luca’s coffee cup and the ring that sat atop it, shining in the light of the chandeliers. “I’d say we’ve given the sediments enough time to loosen.”

You gently put Luca’s ring on the tablecloth and brought his cup and saucer towards you, delicately lifting up the cup and turning it over to read the symbols.

The cup left a perfect circle imprinted on the saucer, and it looked like a decent amount of the sediment had been deposited. “Looks like whatever you wished for will come true.” You said, eyes flicking over to the ring that was now back on Luca’s hand. “And you see all this sediment? It means that worries are leaving you.”

As your eyes traveled along the rim of the cup, you furrowed your brow. “Looks like we’ve got a mixed bag here. Look.” You leaned forward and pointed at the inside of the cup. “These strong lines here,” you tapped your finger on the rim where dark paths caused by the sediment were reaching towards, “mean a very good outcome for you. And these lines are along the part of the cup that represents the future which is good. However,” you turned the cup around, so that the handle was facing Luca and he could more easily see the more broken and hazy lines, “these are not so good. They mean uncertainty, and that ‘y’ there,” you pointed at it, “indicates a crossroads.”

“And what part of the cup is this meant to represent?” Luca seemed genuinely interested and seemed to be somewhat concerned.

You hesitated slightly. “That, um, that’s the love part.” You said nervously. A part of you wondered if the cup was foretelling the future of your marriage, and another part wondered if you truly wanted to know.

A silence hung between the two of you. You slowly brought the cup back to you, and looked back into it, looking over the other markings. But your eyes kept going back to the broken and hazy lines, trying to decipher what they could mean. Usually you wouldn’t be so concerned, but this was your husband’s cup, and he had put one of his rings on top of the cup. Clearly he wanted some kind of good outcome in the relationship department. The circle was a good sign, but the lines seemed to contradict it.

“Well these things aren’t always accurate anyway.” You said quickly, putting the cup back on the saucer. “If I had a pound for every reading that didn’t come true I would probably be able to buy all the coffee in Turkey.” You forced yourself laugh, and it came out sounding like it.

But if Luca was harboring any worries, he hid it well. He just turned the ring between his fingers over and over, looking at you with an expression that you couldn’t read.

You swallowed thickly. This was going to be a long trip to New York.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE FINALLY FUCKING DID IT LADS!!!! WE GOT AN UPDATE AFTER MORE THAN SIX MONTHS GOD DFJGNFGDFHNDJBNF
> 
> i just wanna apologize for the delay, i've gotten a job since starting this fic and it's consumed much of my time, then the holidays were upon us and, well, yall know how it goes. but i got hit with inspo during my shift today so here it is! the long awaited fourth chapter! hopefully future updates wont be as delayed but who knows lmao. anyways thanks for waiting!
> 
> minor tw for violence

Just as the tension was getting to be almost too overwhelming, a waiter arrived with two menus, and you had never been so relieved to be served in your life.

 

“Thank you.” You said, smiling brightly as you took one and did your best to hide behind it under the guise of reading the dishes on offer. Thankfully there were pork free dishes on offer, which made you remember that you were going to have to educate Luca on Islam and it’s rules. Then you wondered if he would be as open and kind about there being another religion in his home as your father had been prior to his reversion. You guessed that Luca was Catholic, and while there were similarities between Catholicism and Islam, there were far more glaring differences.

 

“When we have our wedding,” you began hesitantly, “will it be in a church?”

 

“If I know my mother as well as I think I do, I doubt we’ll have a choice.” Luca joked. “Why?”

 

“Just checking!” You said quickly, going back to the menu. Even though there had not been a masjid in Small Heath, you had always dreamed of getting married in one. Your parents had to go all the way to London, so you figured that you would be able to do the same. Would New York have masjids? Would it have Muslims? Would it have Turkish Muslims?

 

“What's New York like?” 

 

Luca paused, setting his menu down. “Well, for one, it’s a lot bigger than Small Heath.”

 

That made you smile. “I thought as much.”

 

“I don’t know, it’s just...hard to describe.” Luca drummed his fingers on the table, making your gaze flit down to his hand, and watch how elegantly it moved. “It’s full of life.” He said finally, his hand still again. “Everywhere you go there’s at least twelve dozen people around you, even at night it’s busy. Makes Small Heath look pretty sleepy in comparison.”

 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you considered this. Your mind ran wild with images of towering spires, roads that went on for kilometers, people dressed in all manner of ways. Your life had been a sheltered one, but that was all about to change.

 

A waiter soon arrived, asking for your orders.

 

“I’ll have the chicken Alfredo.” Luca said. He and the waiter both looked over at you, waiting for your order.

 

You began to panic as you had become too wrapped up in your thoughts to think of an order. “Oh um, make it two!” You said, inwardly wincing at how your voice raised at the end.

 

But the waiter made no indication of noticing, merely made a note of the orders and said that the kitchen would get right to it.

 

You looked back down at your teacup, eyes traveling over the lines, both dark and faint, trying to figure out what they were trying to tell you, if anything.

 

“Have you had much Italian food?” Luca asked, and you were grateful for the distraction.

 

“Not really.” You said. “Just Turkish and English food.”

 

“Well I can’t speak on Turkish food, but English stuff sucks.” Luca said bluntly.

 

A giggle slipped from you. “It can be pretty bland.” You agreed. “I mean, the English have an empire that spans the entire globe, with colonies that have incredible spices, but they never use them in cooking for some reason.” That would never cease to bamboozle you.

 

Luca grinned and chuckled. “I know Matteo can’t wait to be back in New York with proper food.”

 

You furrowed your brow. “Which one is he?”

 

Luca raised a brow, but pointed at a booth just a few meters away, where you recognised two of Luca’s men. “The one of the left is Matteo, and the other is Frederico.” He explained. “Matteo can be a little hot headed, but he’s loyal. Frederico is more quiet.” His gaze went back to you. “And they will both protect you.”

 

While the notion of being protected and watched by gangster was far from a new one, the gangsters in question were usually men you knew well. You glanced at them nervously. “So, they’re ok with this whole marriage thing.”

 

“That’s irrelevant.” Luca said dismissively. “They’re soldiers, and they’ll do what they’re told.”

 

You knew that was meant to put you at ease, but it didn’t work. They had orders yes, but orders have been ignored before. And you couldn’t help but wonder how they really felt about their leader marrying some girl from England, who belonged to a family that not a week ago they were planning to kill. You fisted the fabric of your dress that rested on your lap.

 

“W-Why me?” You asked quietly. You had managed to keep the question away from the front of your mind so far, but you needed to know. “Why would you choose me? If you were going to marry anyone, Ada would’ve been the smart choice. She’s Tommy’s sister, and she already has a son, she knows how to…” You trailed off, face burning. “Well, you know.” You cleared your throat. “Why are you marrying  _ me _ ?”

 

Luca was silent, his unreadable, impassive gaze slowly going over you. It made the hairs all over your body stand up, in fact your surprised that the hair on your head hadn’t all magically sprung to life. “I wanted to repay a debt.”

 

You furrowed your brow. “Debt? What debt? You don’t owe me anything.”

 

“It isn’t my debt.” Luca clarified. “It’s my mother’s.”

 

“Your...mother?”

 

He nodded. “She hasn’t forgotten, how you got her out of Small Heath.”

 

Oh. You looked back down, face flushing again. “I didn’t help your mum to have her in my debt.” You said, horrified that that’s what they, the Changretta’s and their people, all thought.

 

“I know.” Luca sounded calm, patient. “My mother said you weren’t that type. But you still got her out of Thomas’s path, and because of you she’s alive. I’m just repaying you. Now we’re even.”

 

You nodded, slowly, still not sure what to make of this reason, if it was in fact the truth.

 

If  _ you _ were completely truthful, you hadn’t been thinking at all when you had gone to help Audrey Changretta. You just knew that her husband was dead, after hours of torture, and you knew that Tommy wouldn’t have thought twice to go after her. You still remembered that day, as if it had just happened.

 

* * *

While the early morning fog had still clung to your ankles, you raced to her home, heart hammering. You were terrified that you were too late or that she wasn’t home, but she was there, tired and a little disheveled, but there.

 

“You have to leave.” You had blurted out. “I’m so sorry. Tommy’s killed your husband and you have to go I’m so sorry I really am but you need to go please, please just go!”

 

It had taken you a few minutes to calm down and fully explain everything, but once you had, Mrs Changretta did as you asked. You even helped her pack, and kept an eye out for any Blinders. You went with her to the train station, all the while telling her how sorry you were. You were almost hysterical, and in tears by the time her train arrived. You thought that would be the last time you ever saw a Changretta.

 

When Tommy heard that Mrs Changretta was gone, he was livid. You had walked in on him yelling at John and Arthur, demanding that they go out and find her, leave no stone unturned, no person unquestioned. He was going to have his pound of flesh, one way or another.

 

“She’s gone.” Once again your mouth had moved faster than your brain could think, and you stared, wide eyed, as the three brothers and Polly all looked at you in shock.

 

“She’s  _ what _ .” Tommy’s tone had been dripping with venom, and it sent a chill all through you.

 

“I’m sorry Tommy but I-I helped her leave.” You wilted a little, hunched over, equal parts ashamed and scared. “She didn’t do anything Tommy! She-”

 

You were cut off by the feel of skin colliding harshly against your cheek, sending you to the ground.

 

In a daze you looked up, to see Tommy being restrained by Arthur and John, while Polly screamed at him.

 

“YOU DON’T RAISE A HAND TO FAMILY LIKE THAT THOMAS!” You had never seen your aunt so furious, and it had only made your state worse.

 

“DON’T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” Thomas roared, eyes alight with rage. “YOU BETRAY THIS FAMILY AGAIN AND YOU’RE OUT!”

 

You began to cry. “I-I’m sorry Tommy! I’m sorry!” You wept and begged for forgiveness, but that had only angered Tommy further.

 

“Should ship you to fucking Istanbul!” He snarled. He paused when a child’s cries began to echo in the house, making him look at the ceiling. “And you fucking woke up Charlie!” Tommy managed to shake off his two brothers, and he glared down at you before getting out a cigarette. “I mean it.” He said, in his low, quiet, dangerous voice. “If you  _ ever _ pull that shit again, I’ll put you in a fucking crate myself.”

 

Even after Polly got you out of the house you were sobbing, still saying how sorry you were.

 

“Don’t be sorry sweetheart.” Polly had said gently. “You did a good thing.”

 

‘ _ Did I? _ ’

 

* * *

“How is your mother?” You asked, trying to ignore the memory of the stinging pain from Tommy’s slap.

 

“She’s alive, which is what matters.” Luca smiled gently. “Thank you. I mean that. My mother is all I have left now.”

 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “I would do it again.” You said, only realizing how true it was once all the words had left your mouth.

 

“Two chicken Alfredos.” The waiter had reappeared, carrying the dishes on a silver platter and laying them out in front of the both of you.

 

“Grazie.”

 

“Thank you so much.”

 

The waiter nodded before moving onto another table.

 

“Still can’t believe you people don’t tip.” Luca said, sounding genuinely mistified.

 

“What’s a tip?”

**Author's Note:**

> a little of unsure of this as a first chapter but hopefully things will pick me up in the next one! pls comment and leave kudos!


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